Category: My Tribe

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Jamaican Me Crazy

Well, I’m back from sailing the Caribbean Sea … albeit, reluctantly. If I didn’t have to return to work to make up for all the money we spent on this trip, I would still be out there in the wide open waters.

I blame the Cancerian in me. Having been born under a water sign, I find myself being attracted to oceans and lakes. And I also blame the Filipino in me. After all, the Philippines is a country formed by a multitude of islands (over a thousand, in fact) in the Pacific Ocean. That definitely makes me think I should be a permanent “Island Girl.”

Anyway, back to our Royal Caribbean Cruise. The reason we booked this vacation was mainly to celebrate my parents’ retirement. This was going to be the first family vacation in over 15 years and was to include my brother & his wife along with Hubby & me. Unfortunately it was only to be Hubby & me with my parents. (Ha … that only meant more chocolate and dessert for me! Tee-hee!) Regardless, we all had TONS of fun and enjoyed an absolutely relaxing vacation.

We sailed out of Port Canaveral on Sunday the 18th on our ship, the Mariner of the Seas and spent the entire first day of the cruise at sea. The ship is literally a city on water. Not only did they have the typical amnemities of your usual cruise ship (theatre, beautiful dining rooms, many lounges and bars, huge pools), but they also had an ice rink, a basketball court, and a 9-hole mini-golf course. I swear, we lived in this “city” for 7 whole days, and I STILL feel like I haven’t explored it all.

The first port we docked at (on Tuesday) was Labadee, Haiti. Now I know what you’re thinking … why would ANY cruise ship include a stop in Haiti. However, I am here to tell you that of all the ports we docked at, Haiti was both Hubby & my favorite. But that’s because where we were staying was a private beach owned by Royal Caribbean. There was honestly not a whole lot of activities to do at that destination … but we didn’t care. The beach was beautiful and the water was refreshingly cool. We checked out some local tourist attractions and learned a little history. (For instance … Did you know that Haiti was the first completely run slave country to gain it’s independence? Or that a buccaneer is a “retired pirate” who was now supporting piracy on land by mostly running trading posts?) But mostly we just hung out at the beach enjoying the slight breeze and napping on lounge chairs while listening to the waves. It was THE BEST place to start off our vacation.

The next day (Wednesday), our ship docked at Ocho Rios, Jamaica. I was looking forward to our tour excursion at this location because this was the day that was going to be able to encounter dolphins. We headed out to Dolphin Cove in the morning where we were first told to explore the whole park. This place not only had dolphin, but they apparently had a shark show (which we didn’t see). They also had areas throughout the park where you could encounter other animals. I actually got to handle one of the beautiful parrots and Hubby & I also got to hold a giant iguana … it was definitely a unique experience. But the main attraction of the day was being able to touch and feel and KISS Misty, our dolphin. She was an absolute cutie! We were able to witness her do some awesome tricks in front of us, too. Although I wish we could have done a little swimming with her (that package was mucho expensive!), I’m glad we didn’t … as we didn’t see those groups witness any more than we did, nor did they actually get to hold onto their fins and swim with them.

While still in Ocho Rios, our next stop was the Dunn’s River Falls. Our tour excursion included the ability to climb these falls and then relax in all it’s glory. So here I’m thinking of my trip to Oregon, where climbing the falls meant taking a wooded trail to the top. Oh no. In Jamaica, climbing Dunn’s Falls actually meant climbing the tiered rock-formation falls. Now, I think all would have been fine and dandy if we would have known exactly how these falls looked like before we decided NOT to take the 45-minute guided tour up to the top with the regular “tour group.” Instead, we were approached by a tour guide who offered to take us up the falls all by ourselves. Well. It was definitely an adventure for us and after about a half hour of climbing against strong currents and taking the “nontraditional” tour group route (not to mention acquiring a few war wounds along the way), we made it up to the top of the falls, out of breath but proud of ourselves for surviving the climb. Afterwards, we were planning on doing a little shopping but … 1) We were too annoyed by many of the locals at the Dunn’s River Falls market approaching us and trying to get us to buy something we didn’t want, and 2) We were too freakin’ exhausted after that climb. So instead, we headed back to our trusty Mariner and relaxed the rest of the day.

Our fifth day of our cruise (Thursday), we docked in George Town, Grand Cayman. Again, we booked a tour excursion that would take us around most of the island. Our first stop was to check out Cheeseburger Reef (aptly named for the fact that the reef sits directly in front of the local Burger King … at least that’s what we were told) to see all the exotic marine life via a semi-submersible boat. Along the way to the reef, we got to see a few shipwrecks underwater (the Cali and the Balboa) as well as a few stingrays.

Afterwards, we climbed aboard our “tour bus” and got the tour of the island including a stop at the famous “Seven Mile Beach” as well as the Tortuga Rum shop where we could sample both rum and delicious rum cakes. Eventually we ended up at a little town called Hell. Of course we had to take pictures of ourselves in Hell, go to the bathroom in Hell, and even send a postcard to a couple of our friends (those whose addresses we could remember!) from Hell. Way too many puns to come up with when you visit a town called Hell. Seriously though, the reason the town was named Hell was because of the interesting rock formations that were found in the area. Makes you wonder if this is what Hell really looks like.

And finally, our last stop was the Boatswain’s Beach / Cayman Turtle Farm where we got to see many a sea turtles in various stages of life (from little hatchlings all the way up to 20 to 30 year old sea turtles). The best part? We got to pick up the 2 year old sea turtles and feel their shells, fins, and soft heads. Way cool. The worst part? Well, knowing that we were actually visiting a “farm” where they breed turtles both for sustaining the species as well as for commercial reasons. In fact, after the tour was over, my Dad went over to the attached Botswain Resort’s restaurant and got himself a little cup of turtle soup where he proceeded to offer some to Hubby & me. All I could tell him was I could never bring myself to ever eat turtle soup again after meeting “Squirt” from “Finding Nemo.”

On Friday, the Mariner docked us on the last port of our cruise, the island of Cozumel in Mexico. After disembarking our ship, we were immediately directed onto this super-sleek looking ferry that would take us to Playa de Carmen. Oh, don’t let the mission statement of Mexico Waterjets fool you. They certainly got us to Playa de Carmen in a timely manner, but not without making the best of us (who, by the way have BEEN on a cruise ship now for over 5 days) absolutely sea-sick. It was not a pretty site, let me tell you.

But I digress. This particular shore excursion was the one reason that my parents picked this exact cruise itinerary. It was the ability to spend the afternoon at a well-known Mayan Ruin, Tulum. We had an awesome tour guide, Saul, who is half-Mayan and half-European. (That was the first of many things that I learned that day … that the Mayan people are quite alive and continuing to practice their traditions. Kinda made me feel silly, thinking that the Mayans were an extinct civilization). Once we got to the ruins, he took us on a rather quick walking tour of the site and gave us a brief history of what the ruins were used for (mostly a spiritual site with sacred temples). Afterwards, we were told to walk the ruins at our own leisure. I would have loved to spend the time walking around and reading all the different signs which would explain what each building was meant for … however, the minute Saul was finished with his part, the skies apparently decided to open up and let the flood gates open. Of all days, this was the day Hubby & I decided not to bring a change of clothes or towels, as we weren’t expecting to go swimming. But hey … we also weren’t expecting that there would be a beautiful beach at the Tulum Ruins either.

So since we were already soaked to the bone, we decided to head down to the shore and stick our feet in the sea. Let me tell you, not only was the beach and the sea absolutely breathtaking during the storm, but the water was incredibly warm and inviting! So after we “swam,” we figured we needed to find something to help us dry off. And that’s why we are now proud owners of a hand-made Mexican blanket. (I’m pretty darn sure we would have never bought one if we didn’t find it necessary.) We then headed back onto the ferry (dreading every moment of it) and was shuttled back to our ship. We would have loved to do some shopping back in Cozumel, but unfortunately we didn’t have enough time before our ship was to leave port.

The last day of our cruise was spent at sea, taking us back to Port Canaveral. I liked the itinerary of this cruise mainly because it sandwiched 4 days at different ports between 2 days at sea. That way you had time to get into “vacation mode” before spending 4 hectic days on each stop. And then you have the last day to unwind and relax before heading back home.

A few more notes before I finally end this long blog post.

• Hubby & I cracked up when we saw the day of the week placed on the carpet of the elevator on the ship. I mean really … why would they spend the time to change the day on the carpet every day? Well, we found out midway through our cruise that we DID start losing track of the days. (Now THAT’s a vacation!!)

• The food on the cruise was absolutely fantastic! The only “complaint” I had was that the chefs MUST put something in our food to make us hungry all the time. I mean, seriously. Two hours after eating this incredibly HUGE Thanksgiving meal, I was once again starved and ended up trying get my hands on as many chocolate-covered strawberries during the midnight buffet. (BTW, best Thanksgiving EVER … didn’t have to cook OR clean!)

• Our waiter, Francis and his assistant, Chouzyu (sp?), were wonderful. After a couple days, they both just seemed to know exactly what and when we needed certain things. Oh … and the fact that they supplied us with endless desserts always made my dinner all that much better. (One night, I swear, I couldn’t decide which one of the three desserts I really wanted … and then next thing I knew, Francis was bringing me ALL THREE of them. I swear, it was my wildest “dessert-lover’s dream” come true!)

• And Dad … I love you to death. But next time, ask us before you go out and buy FOUR cartons of duty-free cigarettes to bring back home … especially since you’re only allowed one carton … and ask us to claim the other two cartons. Next time, I really WON’T hesitate to flush them down the toilet.

Okay. I guess I best be wrapping up this post. I think I’ve made it long enough. But hey … I can’t help it. I’m seriously still on “vacation mode.” In fact, I REALLY want this feeling to last as long as I can.

Yeah, yeah … I can just hear you all saying “Quit it. Stop now. Jamaican me crazy!!”

If you’re interested in seeing more pics of our trip, click on the album below.

Caribbean Cruise 2007
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Sideways Glance

Random Cool Picture

I’m sitting here reading some of my wonderful Infertility Friends’ blogs trying to post some responses. And as I sit here, my hubby is giving me sideways glances as he tries to play NBA Live on our PS2.

I know why he does this. And it’s one of those things that I’m both very grateful for and yet slightly bothered by.

You see the reason he’s doing that is to check on me. To make sure I’m okay after I was told some wonderful news tonite.

And while I am absolutely happy and excited that my longtime friend is pregnant with her third child, I can’t help be just a little sad for myself. Which, I’m wondering if I’m being just a little bit of a hypocrite by telling my friend not to be sad for me. (Because I know you still are, my dear friend!)

The thing is, I know Hubby is merely checking to see if I’m still emotionally intact. After all, in my previous blog post, I just happened to mention how my SIL’s news one year ago this Saturday sent me into a major tailspin. And how a couple days ago, I told him that every year I will now associate the Michigan/Ohio State game as the day I hit rock bottom. (Come to think of it, I just told my friend the same thing earlier this evening before finding out about her pregnancy … Woops. Insert foot in mouth.) And trust me, I am so very grateful (not to mention lucky) to know that Hubby cares about me THAT much to keep an eye on me.

Another Random Cool Picture

However, I do want to let him (as well as my dear friend) know that I’m okay. I do admit to being a little sad for myself; however, I will bounce back. After all, I am a much stronger person than I was a year ago.

So thank you, dear Hubby and my dear friend, for your absolute love and concern. I am forever grateful for both of you and of your support for me.

If it weren’t for either of you in my life, I wouldn’t be the stronger person I am today.

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Needle Nut

I have been a little busy lately. Probably a good thing, as I do need to keep myself busy otherwise I will start to overanalyze things like I typically do. And then, well … that just gets me in trouble. (I swear, there is something to be said about thinking “too much.”) However, this time around, I’m keeping myself busy is for a good cause.

My Newest “Nephew” Jakobi

Last year, a co-worker and I read an article in our work newsletter that talked about a couple of other employees in another one of our offices who knitted and crocheted quite a few baby hats and donated them to a local hospital’s Neonatal and Special Care Nursery units. Since the two of us knit, we thought that the following year we would try and do the same thing.

And over the course of the year, we did forget about it. It wasn’t until the most recent events concerning my nephew, Liam, that I once again remembered our plan. Since we had quite a few knitters and crocheters in our office, we decided to include them in our plans as well. We also thought that instead of limiting our project to premie and newborn hats, we would extend it to chemo caps for those kids in the Pediatric Oncology floors.

Since presenting this idea to our other co-workers a few weeks ago, we have received an overwhelmingly warm response. We had such a great response that we’ve even designated our lunch time on Mondays to work on our projects and to get tips or exchange patterns for different designs. (We’re a pretty big group in our cafeteria that our group has been given the nickname “Needle Nuts.”) And as of this past week, we have well over 20 knitted or crocheted premie hats and chemo caps in a variety of different colors and styles. It’s been like Christmas for me every day, as there is always a new item added to the box next to my desk.

“The Therapeutic Blanket Project”

Doing this project has become therapeutic for me… especially given the fact that I’m actually knitting hats for babies that won’t ever be my own. I always thought it was ironic that I was a knitter. After all, there’s a common misnomer that knitters were either grandmothers or mothers who would knit things for babies or young children. And here I was, the childless wonder.

I started knitting a few years ago simply as a diversion. And when I found out that my SIL was pregnant, I knew that I was going to knit a blanket and hat & booties for this child, even though I knew it would just about kill me. But I finished that project (unofficially known as the “therapeutic blanket project”), and I felt really good about doing it too. (It’s just too bad that Liam never got to use them.) After that, I went on to knit a newborn hat this summer for my cousin in Calgary who was due in September.

And now … I’m heading up our holiday needle craft project at work. To be doing that is a big step for me. For so long I felt so down on myself (and there are still quite a few days that I do) and quite honestly, clinically depressed. Every literature I ever read about trying to snap out of depression was to do something for others; the theory being that if you helped others less fortunate, you wouldn’t feel so down on yourself. And it’s a really good theory. However, try telling that to someone who could barely take care of herself, let alone help someone else out. Nearly next to impossible, I tell you.

But now that I have a little more energy, I do feel that I am able to help others out a little more. And that’s a good thing … for this Needle Nut.


The Box of Hats Thus Far
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Autumn Soundtrack & Apron Strings

I love autumn. It’s my favorite season of the year. There’s something about it that appeals to all my senses. The air smells crisp … which then reminds me of pumpkin pie and caramel apples. The leaves change to bright beautiful colors and once they fall, they are just so much fun to stomp on just to hear the crinkling sound. And of course, there’s the change in weather … Indian summer is great, but I do look forward to the drop in temperature just so I can start wearing my sweaters again.

Fall always invokes many memories. The absolute geek in me remembers being excited to go back to school so that I could crack open those new books and break in those new supplies. There’s also the annual trip to the cider mill to get fresh cider and hot donuts and/or to the apple orchards to pick fresh apples. And of course, there is always college football.

Over the years, I’ve started to associate certain songs with certain seasons. Most people associate certain scents with memories, but I’ve always been one that tends to gravitate to the music that has surrounded me during the periods in my life. I describe it as my own personal soundtrack to my life.

For autumn, there is something about The Cure that sticks out in my mind, particularly the “Disintegration” album and specifically the song “Pictures of You.” I’m sure it’s because I remember seeing them in concert during the fall of my senior year in high school; and the song has this haunting melody that reminds me of saying goodbye to friends that have graduated and were heading off to college for the first time.

And speaking of college, another song sparks memories of that first weekend of college and moving into my dorm room. “Life in a Northern Town” by The Dream Academy reminds me of leaving that sheltered environment of Catholic school and expanding my horizons. I remember this song being played by a person I had just met and was surprised that this particular person would like this song as well. It reminds me that you can never judge a book by its cover.

Then there’s “Hands to Heaven” by Breathe. Every time I hear this song I remember my first date in my Junior year in high school. It was the Homecoming Dance at my school and I was escorted by none other than the person I would eventually marry nine years later. Can you believe back then we were going to the dance strictly “as friends?” I think it’s rather interesting that the chorus to that song starts out as “So raise your hands to heaven and pray / That we’ll be back together some day.” Hmm… must have been a foreshadowing of what was to come.

And the last quintessential song for my Fall Soundtrack is none other than the song of which my blog title came from. “Apron String” by Everything But The Girl has been a song that has been part of my life since I was in high school. The first time I ever heard it was by listening to the soundtrack for the John Hughes film, “She’s Having A Baby.” Not that I really liked that particular movie, but John Hughes, in my humble opinion, always had a knack for picking such great songs for any of his films. Anyway, this song reminds me of fall simply for the fact that I remember playing that soundtrack over and over one autumn season.

It’s funny how “Apron Strings”, as a song has always been part of my life. First, during that one autumn season that I played that song over and over again. Then, as I began to fall in love with my husband one spring day during a trip to Ann Arbor my senior year in high school. And finally as I have struggled emotionally over the past ten years with infertility.

My husband came up with the name of the blog, I think, strictly on the fact that he knew that this was probably my most favorite song in the world. What he didn’t expect was that this blog and that song would be pretty much the running theme for what I “needed” to blog about. I’ve had people ask me why I decided to name my blog “Apron Strings,” as the common reference to actual apron strings is about either being tied to one or needing to be cut from one.

For me, the song “Apron Strings” is all about longing. When put in context with infertility, it becomes specifically a longing for a child. If you haven’t had a chance to read the lyrics to the song, feel free to read it here. Then let me know what you think.

But getting back to the whole Autumn soundtrack, music has always played a part in my life. I’d like to know what other songs people associate this season with. There’s some R.E.M. songs that I can think of as well as some U2 songs (hmmm … perhaps “October”?). Or perhaps it’s something as silly as a song from the “Grease” soundtrack. Come on … I can hear you humming a song in the back of your head … let’s “hear” it in writing!

Mmmm … all this talk about autumn has got me craving some warm apple pie and of wanting to snuggle under a warm blanket with Hubby. I’ll be catching you guys later!

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Faith and Longing

I didn’t know this, but October is National Pregnancy and Infancy Loss Month. My Mom, a devout Catholic, told me this information last week after reading her church bulletin. Apparently, the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament (which is also the Archdiocese of Detroit’s “home parish”) was holding it’s annual mass for those couples who have lost their baby or for those couples who were trying to achieve pregnancy. She had called me thinking that my sister-in-law (SIL), Janet, and I might be interested in attending the mass. I told her that I would talk to Janet and then call her back the next day if we decide to go.

Right away, I knew my decision was going to be based on whether my SIL wanted to go. It’s not that I don’t have any spiritual faith or that I don’t believe in a higher power. It’s more because the past 10 years of infertility have caused a “rift” between God and myself.

Let’s start with a little background. As I mentioned before, my mother is a strong believer in her Catholic faith. Growing up in our household, God was always present in our daily lives and activities. The weekends revolved around when we were going to mass. We would spend summers volunteering to do “Meals on Wheels” through our Church and any Catholic holiday helping out with preparations for our Church. Every night, we would read a chapter from the Bible. And because religion was very important to my parents, I attended Catholic school up through high school. I consider myself truly lucky that my parents invested their time and their money in bringing me up with such a strong faith background. And I truly admire my Mom for all that she continues to do on a daily basis for her faith.

And there’s me. After twelve years of Catholic school and the freedom of going away to college … well, of course I detoured and explored life without organized religion. It’s not that I stopped believing in my faith or stopped practicing the basic morals of what I was taught growing up. Rather, I stopped going to mass weekly and only went when it was absolutely necessary. I also stopped my habit of saying my nightly prayers. Let’s face it, college life (and even post-college life) was just more interesting and religion was put on the back burner.

However, even back then I always knew that I would return to my faith. The one thing that Hubby (who is also Catholic) and I always said was that when it came to raising our children, we wanted to provide them with the same faith and morals that we were taught growing up. And when that time came, we both knew we would whole-heartedly return to our faith.

So imagine what has gone through my mind these past ten years as pregnancy never came. Now most people would have turned closer to their faith. And at first I did. I returned to my nightly prayers and attempted to go to mass weekly. My prayers for a family initially started out as “Please God, I ask that you provide me with the family I’ve always wanted.” As the years went on, it became “God, I know I’m a good person but I don’t understand why you’re testing my faith. Why can’t I get pregnant?” Eventually, I just became very angry at God. Why would He do this to me? Why does He allow other people to become parents when they don’t deserve to be? If God has a reason for doing things (as everyone has a way of telling me over and over AND OVER again), what “reason” did He have for making me feel so sad and miserable and GUILTY for feeling the way I do?

So when the opportunity to go to this mass came along, I wasn’t jumping at the bit. However, I knew that this would be a good thing for my SIL, especially since her loss is so recent. After a bit of discussion, we decided to meet up for breakfast on Sunday and head down to the Cathedral, sans husbands (my hubby had to work and hers is not of the same faith).

Overall, I am truly glad that we went. My SIL had the opportunity to place Liam’s name in the Book of Innocence, in which prayers will be said for these babies’ souls. A prayer was said to all those parents who lost their infant and each family was given a rose and a rosary blessed by Cardinal Maida. A prayer was also said for all the couples wishing to become pregnant or adopt a child. We were individually prayed over by the bishop with an actual relic of St. Gerard and given his medallion to continue to pray to him so that St. Gerard would “intercede” to God on our behalf. It was pretty emotional being up there and being surrounded by the beauty and strength of the Cathedral. And I do admit, I certainly did feel God’s presence that day.

However, there was one thing that truly bugged me. This mass was sponsored by the archdiocese’s Natural Family Planning program. Which makes sense, given the nature of what this Mass was about. What had bothered me was the handout they provided on all their methods for Natural Family Planning. Not that I have anything against it, but obviously I wasn’t able to get pregnant using that method. At the very bottom of their handout, it made mention about the Catholic stance on infertility procedures. The basic gist of what they said was that certain infertility procedures are appropriate; however, those procedures that involve a third person in the creation of a child is morally unacceptable.

So wow. My first response on that? Holy Mary, Mother of God … I sinned. And I sinned REALLY badly. And apparently that’s the reason why my IVF cycle failed. So guilt was my first reaction. The second one was that of anger. Why the bloody hell is it considered immoral? I tried everything under the sun to try to procreate naturally and it didn’t happen. So are they telling me then that if pregnancy didn’t happen “naturally” then it’s God’s will that I remain childless? And yet … (here it comes again) there are people out there who don’t deserve to have children?

Okay, so logically I know my first reaction was irrational. And the second one is indeed justified. But it’s that type of thing that leaves me feeling disappointed in my faith.

Despite all that, I do admit that I’ve been trying to work on returning to my faith. As of recently, I have started meeting with a Stephen Minister through a local Catholic Church who just sits and talks with me about all this anger and guilt that I feel, especially about my infertility and my fears about the adoption process. Perhaps one day, whether I continue to pursue having a family or not, I will fully, without any reservations, return to my faith.

Hmm … I wonder if the Catholic Church knows that the week of November 4-10 is National Infertility Awareness Week. And I wonder if they’ll have any events that commemorates that week?